


Pesach, Matzah, and Maror

by shaniacbergara



Series: Coffee, Wine, and Textbooks-Verse [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Holidays, House Cleaning, Jewish Crowley (Good Omens), Jewish Good Omens (Good Omens), M/M, Pesach | Passover, Praise Kink, good Omens is Jewish and so am i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-24 17:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaniacbergara/pseuds/shaniacbergara
Summary: Crowley shows Aziraphale how to celebrate Pesach.





	1. Pesach

Aziraphale finds him cleaning. He rolls over one Sunday morning, and is shocked to find Crowley’s usual side of the bed empty. Crowley, in the several months that they’ve lived together, has never woken up before him, even on Saturday mornings, he relies on Aziraphale and his timely coffee delivery. Aziraphale very nearly pouts. Instead, he puts on his slippers, and rubs the sleep from his eyes as he tugs on his warm robe before heading downstairs. Crowley or no Crowley, he’d make coffee and tea all the same. He hummed to himself as he moved about the kitchen, but was interrupted from a very creditable rendition of the 1812 Overture by a loud thud coming from the study. He pauses, disgruntled, and puts the mugs down to take a look.

Crowley had removed all of the books from a top shelf of one of the book cases in the study, the thud coming from them hitting the floor. He was on tip toe, duster in one hand and spray in another. His hair was positively wild, and he was clad in his black silk robe, though he seemed to have given up on keeping it tied about his waist, plaid boxers, and fuzzy socks. He sprayed the shelf like he was offended by it, and attacked it with the duster. He did a thorough job of it, getting into every corner before he was satisfied. He bent, back to Aziraphale, to recollect the books, dusting one of them before replacing it on its shelf. Aziraphale cleared his throat, and Crowley jumped about a foot in the air.

“Zira!” He exclaimed, whipping around, and, for some unknown reason, concealing the feather duster behind his back.

“What on earth are you doing?” Aziraphale wondered, striding over to him and stooping to pick up a book. He took a closer look at Crowley, his eyes were wide, but the bags underneath of them told Aziraphale everything he needed to know. “How long have you been at this?!” 

“Since round 1, I suppose. What time is it now?” He asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“It’s 7, my dear boy.” Aziraphale put his hands on his hips. “Please do explain yourself.” Crowley sighed, but refused to stop moving, he grabbed another book, went at it furiously with the duster, and replaced it. He kept it up even as he responded.

“I had a dream last night, Zira.” He said, as if that explained everything perfectly.

“A dream.” Aziraphale repeated.

“A dream that it was the night of the first Seder and I hadn’t done any cleaning.” Aziraphale looked puzzled. The first Seder was a little over a week away, they’d been talking about the menu and who to invite for the last week. 

“Our guests won’t be bothered if there’s a little dust on the books, dearest.” He mentioned, completely missing the point. Crowley stared at him.

“No, Zira, no, I have to clean the whole house.” Crowley explained.

“Well, why?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley smiled, despite himself, he did so love questions like that.

“It’s Pesach, Zira, I have to make sure there’s no bread anywhere.” They’d discussed this outlaw on bread. Aziraphale remembered from previous years when Crowley had had to bring his lunch instead of dining out with Aziraphale. Aziraphale had mentioned that he was on board, especially with Crowley’s insistance that he’d cook for him, would make sure he didn’t miss the Chametz too desperately. 

“I don’t think there’s bread on the bookshelves, my love.” Aziraphale pointed out, Crowley looked at him pointedly. “Of course, of course, you can never be too sure.” Aziraphale thought for a moment as Crowley continued his frantic dusting. “Is this why you’d always disappear for a week?” He’d been to Crowley’s Seders before, more often than not it was just the two of them for one night before Crowley went to the second Seder elsewhere, and he always noticed that the apartment was particularly clean around that time of year.

“Course, angel, where did you think I’d swanned off to?” Aziraphale just nodded.

“You have plenty of time, sweet.” Aziraphale pointed out. “And...well...to be honest Crowley you’ve robbed me of a good lie in this morning.” Crowley dropped the book he was holding, distracted enough to look at Aziraphale. This time Aziraphale did pout, and Crowley stepped over the pile of books to cradle Aziraphale’s face in his hands. He kissed him on the forehead, something Aziraphale had noticed Crowley was quite fond of. He melted a bit. 

“I’m sorry, I just got wrapped up in it, I meant to be back upstairs before you got up but I lost track of the time.” He said, and Aziraphale went up on his toes to peck Crowley on his lips. 

“Think nothing of it. Only how about this-” He gently gripped Crowley’s robe, pulling him forward as he walked backwards. “Since there’s coffee and tea, how about we have our proper lie in a bit late, I’ll make you breakfast, and then we can work on this together.” Crowley balked, just a tiny bit.

“You don’t have to, it’s a lot of work, Aziraphale.” He said, but Aziraphale just shushed him.

“None of that, I wouldn’t have offered. Now, come on, you need to relax and I certainly need some tea, go upstairs and I’ll meet you there in a moment. We can have a do over of this whole morning.” Crowley turned pink, but did as he suggested. Aziraphale surveyed the study before leaving, not daring to try and estimate how many books they would have to dust this afternoon. They certainly had quite a bit of work in front of them.

They did have coffee and tea in bed together. Crowley still looked so very tense, he supposed the coffee probably didn’t help too much with that. So, in a very charitable and not at all selfish effort to get his lover to relax, Aziraphale set his mug down, leaned over, and licked a stripe up Crowley’s neck. Crowley gasped, glad his mug was empty. He hurriedly placed it on his bedside table as Aziraphale moved ever nearer, nipping and sucking. Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut. 

Aziraphale clambered on top of him, pinning Crowley’s arms above hid head as he did so, and Crowley moaned, just as he always did, at this display. Aziraphale kissed him with a ferocity Crowley was nearly always surprised by, even after all of these months.

“We have work to do.” Crowley reminded him, his sentence ending in a whine as Aziraphale’s palm pressed against his groin. 

“Mmmm.” Aziraphale acknowledged. “And I promise I will be a perfect help, right after breakfast.” He swore, before pressing forward, and honestly, who was Crowley to argue?  
Aziraphale stroked him slowly, enjoying the whines and whimpers he was able to bring out of Crowley, and the high pitched, “please please please” as he came was always welcome. Aziraphale was perfectly prepared to go and make breakfast, bur Crowley surprised him by flipping him over, working his way down to Aziraphale’s ridiculous pajama bottoms, and swallowing him down.

“Oh Crowley, you’re a doll.” Aziraphale’s breath stuttered. “You’re so very good at this, so lovely of you.” Crowley made a noise deep in his throat, and really that was all it took. Crowley was smirking and looking far more pliant and relaxed when he resurfaced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He flopped down beside Aziraphale, and Aziraphale took the opportunity to bite at his neck once more. “Feeling better?” Aziraphale asked, whispering in his ear.

“Hedonist.” Crowley accused, in lieu of a reply. 

“I do believe you’ve wasted enough time now, dear. I’ll go start on breakfast so we can finally get cleaning.” Aziraphale teased, and Crowley sputtered his protests as Aziraphale quickly changed out of his pajamas, borrowing a Queen shirt from one of Crowley’s drawers and tossing on his one and only pair of sweatpants, a rather chic pair of joggers he’d bought on a whim. Seeing Aziraphale in his shirt silenced Crowley fairly quickly, and he was left blushing in their bed as Aziraphale winked at him, leaving to get started on breakfast.


	2. Matzah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on a chametz hunt.  
I hope you all enjoy! I've been in the weirdest headspace over the last few weeks, hopefully it'll clear up and get better now, but I, as always, appreciate your enthusiasm over this verse!!!!

Crowley wasn’t messing around when he said they had to clean everything. They’d scrubbed the bathroom, gone through all of their clothing, dusted every single book the pair of them owned, poured boiling water over surfaces Aziraphale couldn’t recall ever having come into contact with boiling water before. And, he realized, it was not limited to just their home. Oh no, Crowley insisted on doing their offices as well. Crowley had even vacuumed Aziraphale’s rug. But, Aziraphale was pleased to find that they were, at last, finally finished with the cleaning process. Crowley had kept trying to apologize throughout the week.

“I’m sorry, angel, you don’t have to help, really.” He’d insist, mop in one hand, the other running through his unruly hair. Aziraphale would fix him with a withering look.

“We’re in this together, now.” He’d remind him, and Crowley would blush, but would drop it for a few hours until he’d find Aziraphale dusting the fan in their bedroom and would feel inclined to apologize all over again. 

The previous night, Crowley had gone out to do a big shop late in the evening, when the cleaning was finally finished. He’d picked up everything they’d need for the Seder, and for the week’s worth of sad, breadless meals. Though, Aziraphale reminded himself, Crowley had promised that the food would be so good he wouldn’t dream of missing the bread. A tall task, Aziraphale loved bread. They’d sat in the kitchen then, for a while, and packed up a box full of bread and bread-adjacent products, to be sealed away in a cupboard and not opened until Pesach concluded. 

The following day was the day before the first Seder. They’d driven to work together, Crowley insisted that Aziraphale drive today. 

“Here, angel.” He’d said, tossing the keys to Aziraphale’s sedan at him. Aziraphale caught them, barely, and looked aghast at Crowley. “What?”

“You don’t want to drive?” Aziraphale asked, agog. He went over to Crowley, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Are you ill?” Crowley laughed at him.

“No, everything’s fine, I just don’t care to drive the Bentley today.” Aziraphale continued to look taken aback. “It’s not a big deal!”

“You always want to drive!” Aziraphale insisted. 

“Alright I’ll drive your car, then.” Crowley replied, raising an eyebrow and reaching for the keys.

“Don’t you dare. My car can’t take the kind of strain you’d put it through and you know it.” Aziraphale argued, holding the keys out of Crowley’s reach. “Very well, let’s go.”  
Crowley chatted as Aziraphale drove, opening the window and sticking his arm out into the cool, early spring air. He was giving Aziraphale a more coherent breakdown of everything left to be done before the seder. He felt far more at ease discussing it now that the cleaning was finished. His dreams had been stress free for the last couple of evenings. They drank their coffee, Crowley’s second cup, Aziraphale’s first, together in Crowley’s office before they parted for the morning. Crowley kissed Aziraphale, and made a big show of walking off in the direction of the staircase casually. However, once he hit the staircase, he broke into an all out sprint. He reached his classroom in record time, ignoring the surprised giggles from some of his students, threw his laptop onto the desk, and typed out an email to his evening class.

“Morning all, this is just a reminder that I have cancelled class this evening. I hope you all have a lovely evening, go out, and get into some trouble. Yours, very elatedly, Dr. Crowley.” He pressed send and grinned up at his students, they’d all been waiting with bated breath. 

“You know that feeling of when you’re trying desperately to hide something from your boyfriend but you’re terrible at keeping secrets so you blather on about recipes to distract him?” Some nods, mostly blank glares. “I thought not. That’s what my morning’s been like. But we’re not here to talk about that. It’s a beautiful day. Let’s talk about Yellow Fever.”

After class, Crowley raced back to his classroom, not even stopping to chat with any of his students. Blessedly, he saw that Aziraphale’s office light was still off. He raced inside, grabbed a post it, and scribbled a hasty note. “AZW-had to leave a bit early. Not to worry. Good thing you drove this morning. See you tonight. All my love,-AJC.” He stuck it on his door and sprinted out of the office, hurtling through the streets until he reached the bus stop. 

The bus wasn’t his preferred way to travel, but it was a means to an end. He reached the stop nearest to their little country home, and strolled up the lane, ready to make his preparations so he’d be ready by the time Aziraphale got back home. He vaguely noticed his phone buzzing with text messages, but he ignored them for the time being as he got set up. Many hours later, when night had finally fallen, he heard the tell tale rumble of an engine as Aziraphale’s ridiculous sedan drove down the road. He hastily ran through the house, shutting off all of the lights, and met Aziraphale in the driveway, materials hidden behind his back. Aziraphale looked cross as he clambered out of the sedan.

“Crowley!” He demanded, storming up the driveway. Crowley bounced up on tip toe then bounced back down. 

“Yes, angel?” He asked, a shit-eating grin plastered to his face.

“Don’t ‘yes angel’ me!” He retorted. “Where on earth did you get off to today? I was worried sick! It’s not like you to cancel class. I even asked one of your students.” Crowley’s eyes went wide. 

“You what?!” He demanded incredulously. 

“I did! I asked Harry.” Crowley smiled, Harry was taking one of his classes and one of Aziraphale’s this semester, just like Bea. 

“And?”

“And, he said he simply couldn’t divulge such privileged information. I even threatened to fail him.” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t actually fail him, put your eyebrows away.” 

“I’m sorry to have worried you, angel.” Crowley admitted, as earnestly as he could muster.

“Right now I’m worried about what you have behind your back.”

“Ah, well, it’s all part of the surprise.” He said, temptingly, all at once, he saw the irritation ease out of Aziraphale’s shoulders. He grinned. 

“Oh…very well. You wiley fiend, I’ll play your game.” He even gave him a smile, and Crowley would have melted. 

“Good! I was so hoping you’d be amenable.” He held out the candle, wrapped with foil towards the bottom to protect his angel’s hands from hot wax. Aziraphale took it, curiously, and Crowley struck a match and lit the candle. Aziraphale’s face glowed enchantingly in the flickering light, Crowley swallowed loudly, before deciding that the game could wait a moment longer. He kissed Aziraphale, still hardly able to believe his luck to just be able to reach out and do this whenever he liked. Aziraphale smiled into the kiss. 

“Surely you didn’t leave early just to kiss me by the candlelight.” He pointed out, and Crowley blushed. 

“Quite right, here, you’ll need this.” He handed him the wooden spoon and feather, and Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll try anything once, dearest, but perhaps you’d better explain first.” And if Crowley had been pink before he was positively scarlet now.

“Don’t-would you-don’t be absurd.” He said/ “It’s a chametz hunt.” He revealed, but on;y got a blank look back. 

“A chametz hunt?” Aziraphale repeated.

“Well, yes. It’s tradition. Someone hides little pieces of chametz in the house, and you turn all the lights off and find them with the candle, and use the feather to sweep them into the wooden spoon, then tomorrow we’ll burn them.” He described it with the giddy delight he used when talking about history. Aziraphale smiled, unable to stop himself. 

“You snuck out of work early, cancelled your classes, to set up a dark version of an easter egg hunt for me?” Crowley’s brow furrowed. 

“Don’t be absurd. We predate easter eggs.” 

“Of course, of course.” 

“I haven’t had the chance to do one of these in years. It’ll be fun, I promise.” Aziraphale leaned up to kiss him, this time, careful to hold the candle at a safe distance. “Is that a yes?” 

“Of course, do lead on.” 

He’d hidden six, carefully squirreled them away throughout the house. He’d made sure to write down the locations of each of them on a post it, which was secreted away in his pocket. Aziraphale, to his credit, moved rapidly past his skepticism and toward delight when he realized what a challenge this would be. He found two fairly easily, one resting just behind the coffee filters, another in the refrigerator. The next two took longer, he began asking Crowley to direct him, hot or cold, and successfully found the one hidden behind the cold knob of the bathroom sink, and the one behind Aziraphale’s own alarm clock. The one on the ceiling fan took quite a bit of time, though Crowley realized that it wasn’t quite fair, seeing as Aziraphale wasn’t nearly as tall as he was. Aziraphale was very nearly ready to give up when he finally spotted the crumb nestled amongst Crowley’s citronella plant. He held it up triumphantly, and Crowley laughed, taken the full spoon down to the kitchen, and wrapping it carefully in a paper towel, setting it near the front door. When he turned, Aziraphale was in the doorway of the kitchen, still holding the lit candle. His smile was as soft as the candle light as he beckoned Crowley towards him.

“You’re a delight, Anthony.” He leaned up on tip toe to kiss him. 

“You’re not cross with me?” He asked, gripping Aziraphale’s lapels. 

“Hardly, I can’t wait for tomorrow, my love.” He confessed. “But I have some idea for how to pass some of the time. You look so beautiful in the candlelight.” Crowley blushed, feeling the tips of his ears warm. How could he have gotten so lucky? Was Aziraphale utterly blind? He, surely, was the beautiful one between them. 

“I think I like the way you think.”

The next morning, a rather sore Crowley spoke in Hebrew over a small fire in their driveway, then repeated in English, smiling at Aziraphale as he did so. They ate cereal and drank their coffee and tea on the porch in their pajamas, grinning at each other in the cool morning breeze.


	3. Maror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This took me so long to finish omg I'm sorry! But it's seder night and Aziraphale and Crowley are gonna do it up right!!

Crowley and Aziraphale stayed home from work the next day. After their cereal on the front porch, they sipped coffee together. Crowley kept glancing at his watch, then at the door that led into the kitchen. His knee began to bounce up and down on their porch chairs after five minutes. After ten, Aziraphale relented.

“Alright, alright, I suppose we ought to get started.” He allowed, and Crowley, not needing to be told twice, jumped up immediately. He pulled Aziraphale by the hand, back inside and into the kitchen. Crowley had begrudgingly agreed to let Aziraphale serve a sous chef for the seders, and Aziraphale knew the game plan backwards and forwards by now. 

They set to work together, chopping onions, carrots, celery, potatoes, and yams. By the time they were finished, a mountain of vegetables sat on their kitchen table. Aziraphale was fairly certain his kitchen table had never seen so many vegetables in its entire existence.

They moved easily together through the kitchen. Aziraphale, mixing and rolling out matzah balls, depositing them onto a parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Crowley, prepping the roast, letting it rest on the bed of vegetables, running out to the garden to collect some herbs before returning.

“A roast, for night one.” Crowley decided, midway through cleaning the toilet a few days prior.

“A roast, then.” Aziraphale had agreed, grinning at him though his hand was deep into the shower drain. 

“A chicken for night two, that’s always nice.” He’d been half musing to himself, but Aziraphale agreed nonetheless. 

“I suppose we can send some leftovers home with the kids.” He’d suggested, and Crowley had grinned at him so fondly he thought his heart might break.

“The kids.” Crowley had repeated, grinning delightedly. “Of course.” 

The matzah balls went in the freezer, and Crowley covered the remaining vegetables with water and set it to simmer. In the meantime, they went about prepping the other necessary ingredients. 

“Toss me an egg, angel?” Crowley asked from the counter. Aziraphale, who’d been digging for the horseradish, did so. He actually picked up an egg and tossed it, over his shoulder, to Crowley, who lunged for it, safely cradling it in his hands. “Good lord.”

“Can’t stand the heat?” Aziraphale waggled his eyebrows.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He gently placed the egg in the oven, nestled on a bed of tin foil, and left it to roast. He returned, when Aziraphale was out of the way, to collect the remaining eggs, setting them up to hardboil.

“Are hard boiled eggs traditional?” Aziraphale asked, smiling at him with a wrinkled nose as he peeled the horseradish.

“I don’t think so, actually.” He said, thinking about it. “My mother always said it was just to keep us from getting to hungry through the Magid, and I just sort of stuck with it.” He grinned. Aziraphale had always been so polite at his past seders. It had been just the pair of them, that was true, but he’d been a perfect goyische guest. Reading the english when Crowley would ask, but never asking any questions for fear of being rude. Now, however? It was like Aziraphale had been untethered, and the questions rarely ceased. It thrilled Crowley to no end. That was, after all, the spirit of the holiday. 

Aziraphale chopped the horseradish up into minute pieces, and set it aside, some in a bag, some in one of the dishes that fit into Crowley’s seder plate. He held it up for inspection, and Crowley nodded, winking at him. 

It took hours, but Crowley finally announced they were finished about an hour before their guests were set to arrive. The charoset (a little heavy on the wine, just as he liked it), the karpas (parsley and potatoes, Crowley was Ashkenazi, after all), the zroah (Crowley had had to get two shank bones, a stray dog had stolen his first on the walk home), the beitzah (now speckled from its time in the oven, a trick Crowley had learned from his mother), and the maror (perfectly small pieces, much to Aziraphale’s pride), were laid out on Crowley’s beautiful seder plate. It was ornate, he had inherited it from his great grandmother. Well, stolen it was more precise. When his grandfather had died, he’d managed to sneak through the house full of bickering relatives, and find where his grandfather had told him he’d hidden certain treasures, like his tallit, and his mother’s seder plate. It had been a wise, if risky, choice. 

The table set, Elijah and Miriam’s cups set out just so, cushions stacked high on all of the chairs around their table, and everything in its place, all they had left was to wait. It didn’t take long, they had just taken a seat at the kitchen table when the doorbell rang. Crowley hopped out of his chair, grinning widely at Aziraphale. Bea, Harry, and Leo stood on the doorstep, grinning up at their former professor. 

“Chag Sameach, Dr. Crowley!” Bea exclaimed and Crowley stepped aside, gesturing them out of the night air and into the warmth of the kitchen.

“Chag Sameach! It’s good to see you all, we’re glad you can make it. I believe you all know my boyfriend, Aziraphale Will?” He asked, gesturing to Aziraphale who stood, smiling. Crowley had to do a double take, His boyfriend? Willingly smiling at students?

“Good to see you.” Aziraphale offered, winking at Crowley. “Don’t look so incredulous, dear boy. They’re not students tonight, they’re guests!” Crowley forced the stunned look off of his face.

“We brought wine!” Harry said, proudly holding up the bottle. “Not even bottom shelf wine, either, Bea was very specific.” Crowley laughed, heartily, taking it from them.  
“You shouldn’t have!” He insisted, but scurried off to place it in a spot of honor on the set table anyway. When he returned, Aziraphale was answering the door, or, rather, was getting himself out of the way just in time as Mrs. Snyder bustled in, carrying a gargantuan bouquet of flowers in one hand and yet another bottle of wine in the other.

“I’ve been wondering when I might merit an invitation to see the new place-” She began, Aziraphale attempted to correct her.

“Actually, I’ve lived here for-”

“But no matter I’m here now and that’s what matters. Oh!” She said, catching sight of the undergraduates. “Kinderlach! Anthony are these yours?” 

“Only kind of, Mrs. Snyder.” He said, relieving her of her floral burden. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“Of course they’re beautiful, they’re children!” She insisted, Crowley just rolled his eyes, reaching up to one of the top shelves for a vase. 

“And you are?” She asked, taking Bea’s hand.

“Bea, ma’am, it’s nice to meet you.” Bea replied, eyes wide. She glanced between Mrs. Snyder and Aziraphale, but Aziraphale could only shrug. 

“So polite! And so lovely. We’ll share a glass of wine and gossip later, I’m sure you have plenty to tell, with these two men beside you.” Bea opened her mouth, but Mrs. Snyder had moved on to bossing Crowley around in the dining room. She looked at Aziraphale.

“I love her.” 

“Everyone does.” He replied, simply.

It took a few more minutes to get everyone settled, but eventually, they made their way into the dining room, a cramped space, but comfortable and cozy. Everyone opened their Haggadot, and Crowley began. 

“Now, seder actually means order, so it’s very important that we get the order of events right, here, Harry, will you read the order for us please, page 2, if you wouldn’t mind.”   
“Sure thing, Dr. Crowley.” He cleared his throat, then chanted, “Kadesh, Orchatz, Karpas, Yachatz, Magid, Rachzah, Motzi Matzah, Maror, Korech, Shoulchan Orech, Tzafoon, Barech, Hallel, Nirtzah.” Crowley, not having realized that Harry spoke Hebrew, broke into applause. 

“Very good!” He praised, and Harry blushed a bit. 

“Bea, could you do that in English, please?” Bea obliged, looking over at the left hand side of the page for the translation.

“Kiddush, Washing Hands, Green Vegetable, Breaking the Middle Matzah, Telling the Passover Story, Washing Hands, Matzah, Bitter Herbs, Korech, Festival Dinner, Afikoman, Blessing After Meals, Hallel, Concluding the Seder.” 

“Excellent, thank you so much.” Bea, bless her, actually raised her hand. “Oh for the love of-don’t raise your hand here!” He chided, and she chuckled.

“Dr. Crowley, some of those translations don’t actually appear to be translated.” She pointed out, looking in her book. “Sorry.”

“You know how I feel about apologizing for asking questions. That’s what this holiday is all about in fact-” And with that, they were off. 

By the time they reached the magid everyone was feeling very comfortable indeed. The wine had begun, Crowley insisting that 4 cups was a joke, that everyone should feel free to drink as much as they liked. Mrs. Snyder insisted on asking the 4 questions herself. 

“I was the youngest in my family! And is anyone at this table going to argue that I’m not the youngest person here?” She asked, giving the evil eye to the gathered crew. Silence, so she asked. Aziraphale, bless him answered, and they continued steadily on. 

“Hillel used to eat his bitter herbs and matzah together, because that’s how it’s written.” Crowley informed them. 

“So why add the charoset, then?” Leo wondered, and Crowley grinned.

“Possibly because matzah and maror are both positively disgusting.” He gave himself a generous spoonful of charoset before passing it on to Aziraphale.

They eat together, laughing, drinking, joking. Crowley insists on making everyone take a piece of gefilte fish. He watches Aziraphale swallow his, trying to hide his grimace, before taking a large spoonful of the beet horseradish and spreading it over his own fish, throwing a hearty wink across the table. Aziraphale follows suit, then immediately gets his sinuses thoroughly cleared. 

When it’s time for the Afikomen, Crowley reaches for it in an exaggerated manner, only to come up empty handed. The kids, now thoroughly tipsy, are giggling behind their hands, Mrs. Snyder’s lips are pursed, Aziraphale looks conspiratorially at Crowley, he’s been prepared for this. 

“Where on earth is the Afikomen?” He wonders aloud. “We can’t finish the seder without the Afikomen!” He begins to search, a pantomime, a fantastic performance. Finally, he beckons Bea over to him. “Bea. Bea.” He says in a stage whisper. “I’ll give you...twenty five cents if you tell me where the Afikomen is. C’mon, I know you’ve got it.” There are cries of outrage from Harry and Leo. 

“Sorry, Dr. Crowley, but that wouldn’t be fair.” She says, sagely. Crowley nods, but doesn’t give up. He squats down next to Mrs. Snyder’s chair. 

“Mrs. Snyder. C’mon. Too much wine? I know you want to tell me.” He says, winking at her. She shakes her head.

“You can’t possibly think I’d give away the location without a proper incentive.” Crowley pretends to think.

“Very well, very well.” He reaches into his back pocket, no mean feat considering how tight his pants are. He produces three gift cards for the little cafe on campus, and a photocopied recipe for heirloom tomato pound cake. “Will this do?” 

“Oh I’ve been wanting you to give me that recipe for years. What do you think kinderlach?” They nod enthusiastically, and Crowley distributes them, grinning widely. 

“Alright, very well, please produce the Afikomen.” Mrs. Snyder reaches into her purse and pulls out the matzah. Crowley bursts into laughter. “Mrs. Snyder! You’ll have crumbs!” 

“Ah yes but after Pesach is finished I will also have tomato pound cake. That, you silly boy, is worth it.” 

They dig into their matzah, they bless after their meal, and by the time Chad Gadya is finished, they are so thoroughly warm and comfortable that Crowley is shocked that Aziraphale hasn’t fallen asleep at the table. It’s late, nearly midnight, but the kids insist on clearing up. It’s so utterly touching that even Aziraphale looked quite chuffed at the gesture. They retired to the study for one more glass of wine once everything was cleaned. The kids and Mrs. Snyder waiting for their respective ubers, Crowley and Aziraphale simply enjoying the holiday. They shove massive quantities of left overs into the kids hands on their way out the door, and with a final kiss from Mrs. Snyder, the door is shut and Crowley and Aziraphale collapsed against each other, thoroughly exhausted. 

“So?” Crowley asked, taking his wine glass in hand once more. Aziraphale hums, and follows suit, they end up sprawled together on the couch in the study. 

“So?” He repeats, smiling at Crowley.

“What did you think?” He clarified, taking a sip of wine. Aziraphale absentmindedly traced patterns on Crowley’s pant leg, and watched as Crowley’s eyes rolled up, the way they did when he was truly blissed out. 

“I’m glad we get to do it tomorrow.” He replied, honestly. “I’m glad I got to do this with you.” Crowley smiles, eyes fluttering shut.

“Even with all the cleaning?” Crowley’s head found Aziraphale’s lap, and he was asleep almost immediately. 

“Even with all the cleaning.” 

Crowley fell asleep with Aziraphale’s hands in his hair. Aziraphale wasn’t far behind him, and despite waking up the next morning with a massive crick in his neck, he couldn’t have felt more content. Crowley, feeling like putty in Aziraphale’s hands, reflected that his ancestors ought to be proud of this level of relaxation and freedom on the celebration of Pesach.


End file.
